Against All Odds
by redrider6612
Summary: This is a songfic to one of my all time fave songs.  Sorry its so angsty, but then the song is too, if you listen to it.  Thank you for reading.  Reviews are greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Against All Odds

By Phil Collins

_**How can I just let you walk away?**_

_**Just let you leave without a trace?**_

_**When I stand here taking every breath with you**_

_**You're the only one who really knew me at all**_

They stood together in a corner of the crowded terminal, a hand's breadth apart, hands clasped, foreheads touching. Neither had said anything for a long time, not because there was nothing to say, but because neither of them could get words past the tears clogging their throats. There was nothing to say that hadn't been already said anyway. A voice over the PA announced her flight and, as though that had been the signal they'd been waiting for, they were suddenly in each other's arms, clutching as though they would never let go. The tears she had been struggling to hold back finally fell and he pulled back to look into her lovely face. His fingers trembled as they lovingly traced her delicate features as though trying to memorize the texture of her skin. She made herself look him in the eye, painfully aware that this might be the last time she would ever see him. The thought caused a spasm in the region of her heart and she drew a shaky breath.

_**How can you just walk away from me?**_

_**When all I can do is watch you leave?**_

'_**Cuz we shared the laughter and the pain**_

_**And even shared the tears**_

_**You're the only one who really knew me at all**_

"I've gotta go," she rasped as the PA announced the final boarding call for her flight.

He nodded jerkily, then dropped his head for a last kiss. Her lips parted as her arms pulled his head down and she kissed him, giving everything now, even that little corner of her heart that she had held back. Now that it was too late. They finally pulled apart and she bit back a sob at the tears on his face. She'd only seen him cry once before--he was so strong. Stroking his cheek one last time, her eyes told him how deeply she cared, even if she couldn't tell him in so many words.

_**So take a look at me now**_

_**There's just an empty space**_

_**There's nothing left here to remind me**_

_**Just the memory of your face **_

_**Take a look at me now**_

_**There's just an empty space**_

_**And you coming back to me is against the odds**_

_**And that's what I've got to face**_

He followed her as far as the roped off embarkation area. Standing there, helpless to stop her from leaving and taking his heart with her, he watched her standing in line. He willed her to turn and look at him one last time, but she didn't. Maybe she was afraid if she did, she would lose her resolve to leave. He stayed rooted to the spot until she disappeared from sight, even stayed until the last person had boarded and they closed the doors to the jetway. He didn't lose hope that she'd come running back to him until then. Even then he went to the windows overlooking the tarmac, hoping and praying that she would change her mind and demand to be let off the plane.

_**I wish I could just make you turn around**_

_**Turn around and see me cry**_

_**There's so much I need to say to you**_

_**So many reasons why**_

_**You're the only one who really knew me at all**_

He left the airport after her flight took off. Arriving at his apartment, he tried to remember driving there, but the trip was a blur. It was a miracle he hadn't crashed. He walked into his living room and collapsed on the couch, unable to summon the energy or the interest to do anything else. She had been the focal point of his life for so long, he didn't know what to do now that she was gone.

He had never been able to convince her to move in with him, but her touch was everywhere. On the wall over the T.V. was an ancient Turkish dagger that she had brought him from her last trip to the Middle East. An antique bowl from Egypt with fruit in it sat on the coffee table. The throw on the couch had been a gift last Christmas. Picking it up, he drew it across his lap and sat fingering the soft fringe.

_**So take a look at me now**_

_**There's just an empty space**_

_**There's nothing left here to remind me**_

_**Just the memory of your face **_

_**Take a look at me now**_

_**There's just an empty space**_

_**But to wait for you is all I can do**_

_**And that's what I've got to face**_

His mind took him over their last conversation, rehashing the whole thing once more, searching desperately for some key argument that he could have brought up to change her mind.

_She turned to face him, arms folded defensively over her chest. "I'm moving to Chicago," Brennan said. Her face was blank, her eyes cool as though she had rehearsed this until she could do it unemotionally._

_Booth froze, his mouth open. It took a moment for her words to sink in. "Why?" was all he could think to say._

"_I've been offered a professorship at Northwestern University," she said calmly._

_Booth shoved his hands into his pockets instead of grabbing her and shaking her like he wanted to. "You're leaving the Jeffersonian?" he asked incredulously._

"_It's an incredible opportunity," she said as though that explained it all. He pursed his lips angrily, a muscle jumping in his cheek, and she went on to elaborate. "I just can't do it any more, Booth," she said. "Dealing with death…the brutal things people do to each other…its killing me, killing every bit of humanity in me."_

"_I thought you found our work rewarding—" he began, trying to understand what had changed for her._

"_I did—I do…I just…dealing with Haversham was too—"her voice cracked, the first sign that she wasn't as unemotional as she would have him think._

"_We've dealt with serial killers before," he said grimly. He couldn't believe she was doing this, breaking up their partnership. There had to be something he could say to change her mind._

"_This was…harder. The way he targeted young girls, runaways, giving them false hope, then torturing them. It was all so…" she trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the absolute horror she felt at what had been done to those girls._

"_You're running away," he suddenly accused, stepping closer to her. She tightened her folded arms, hands gripping her own upper arms so hard he was sure she'd have bruises._

"_It's a major step for my career," she insisted, lifting her chin, challenging him to push her._

_He shook his head, his eyes boring into her. "We're getting too close, getting too serious and you can't handle it, so you're running away," he said harshly._

_She shook her head doggedly. "No! No, Booth, I need to do this, for my own sanity—" she said, a pleading note in her voice. "Try to understand, please. I can't do this any more."_

_He stepped closer, invading her personal space, but she refused to back down. He changed tactics. "I'm sorry I pressured you about moving in. If you're not ready, I can wait, just please don't do this," he begged huskily._

_Did he imagine the sheen of tears in her eyes? She blinked and it was gone and her lips pursed in determination. "This has nothing to do with us," she insisted._

_His eyes searched hers, looking for some hint that she was stonewalling. She stared back at him, not giving an inch. "Fine," he said finally, turning away so she couldn't see that she was tearing out his heart. He took a few steps away and stopped, working hard to control himself. When he turned back to look at her, the mask was in place. "Go do your professorship thing, try to pretend you don't need me…don't need what we have. But know this—when you finally realize what I've known all along…that we were made for each other…I'll be waiting. However long it takes," he said, finishing on a ragged whisper._

_She drew a long, shaky breath. That wasn't what she wanted. It had to be a clean break, or it would never heal. "Don't wait for me, Booth. I'm not coming back." Her eyes were steady._

"_I'll be waiting," he repeated, and she caught her breath at the certainty in his eyes._

_**Take a good look at me now**_

'_**Cause I'll still be standing here**_

_**And you coming back to me**_

_**Is against all odds**_

_**It's a chance I've got to take**_

_**Take a look at me now**_

Laying his head against the back of the couch, he sighed heavily, weary to the bone. She'd be back. She had to come back. He didn't want to consider the alternative.

**A/N: Part 2 will be posted by the weekend. Please click the little blue button and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Once more I have to thank willgirl for being an absolutely awesome sounding board. You ROCK willi! This story wouldn't be half as good without your input. This is part two, the middle of my shortie. I hope to have part three up by Monday, but with my niece's wedding on Saturday and church half the day Sunday, I'm not sure. Anyway, thank you so much to all who have reviewed and thanks for sticking with me through the angst.**

**Against All Odds**

**Part 2**

_Washington, D.C._

She'd been gone a month. Well, twenty eight days, six hours and forty two minutes…if anyone was counting. Okay, so at least one person was counting, but I sure wouldn't admit that to anyone.

Agent Phillips was the Jeffersonian liaison now. I had worked one case with the squints after she left, and it had been a disaster. Not that we hadn't solved the case. We had. But it had taken a lot longer than it would have if Bones had been there. Things just hadn't gone very smoothly, and my patience had worn thin. Zach's brilliant, but he has no social skills. He was useless in the interrogation room. So when we'd finally wrapped up the case, I asked for a transfer, which Cullen had granted reluctantly.

I still worked homicide, just not the kind that fell to the Jeffersonian, and I was okay with that. Maybe if I kept telling myself that, eventually I'd believe it. Not that I missed dealing with the squints and their idiosyncrasies, which, let's be honest, drove me nuts sometimes. What I missed was the way they had accepted me, not as one of them so much, but as an ally.

I had taken to going to the gym every night, pushing myself relentlessly to the point of exhaustion so I could sleep at night. As a result I had shed ten pounds I didn't really need to lose. I spent as little time at home as humanly possible. There were too many memories—everywhere I turned there was something to remind me of her. I considered moving, but I couldn't muster the energy or interest to look. It was easier to just keep going like I was.

I was sitting in a booth at the diner, picking at my fries. This was the first time I'd been in the diner since she'd left, partly because I was avoiding the squints and partly because I didn't need any more reminders of her. Today I decided I needed to bite the bullet and get past it.

Angela dropped into the seat across from me. "Hi," she said brightly, grinning like a mental patient. I barely glanced at her. Unfortunately, my lack of response didn't discourage her. "How've ya been, Booth?"

I picked up my iced tea and took a long sip. She waited patiently. Finally I gave in, impressed by her interrogation skills. I could use her the next time I needed to question a suspect. "I'm fine. Where's Hodgins?"

"Circling the block." Her eyes were studying me intently. "Fine, huh? Is that why you have circles under your eyes? Is that why you've lost weight? Is that why you asked to be reassigned?"

I sighed. I really didn't want to do this, but I knew there was no way she was leaving until she'd gotten what she wanted. "I'm dealing, okay Angela? The best I know how. Last I checked, that wasn't illegal." I took another sip of my iced tea.

She narrowed her eyes at me, pursing her lips. "She's not doin' so hot either." I raised my eyebrows at her, trying to convey a 'why should I care?' attitude. She wasn't buying it. She reached over and put her hand on my arm. "Go get her, Booth."

My heart leapt at the thought of doing that. I had fought the urge to go after her every day since she had left. I sat back, pulling my arm from her grasp, shaking my head. "I can't do that," I said firmly, telling myself as much as her.

Her brows slammed together. "Can't? Or won't?" she asked harshly. "What's it gonna take? One of you in mortal danger?"

I rolled my eyes and looked away. I didn't need this. It was hard enough fighting my own desire without having to deal with her pushing me, too. "Leave it alone, Angela. She'll come back when she's ready."

"No, she won't," Angela said sadly. "It's gonna come down to who is more stubborn, you or her, and I hate to tell you, she's had lots more practice."

"We'll see," I said with a tone of finality meant to discourage any more discussion. She was staring at me again. I'd had enough. Leaning forward, I lowered my voice. "Please, Angela. Let me handle this my way. I know you think you know her, but I know her better. If I go after her, she'll feel cornered. She has to come back to me on her own…it needs to be _her_ idea."

After a moment she nodded her head, but there were tears in her eyes. "Okay. I sure hope you're right."

"So do I," I said, meaning it with every fiber of my being. I went back to eating after she left, my thoughts on my errant partner, wondering for the umpteenth time what she was doing.

&&&&&&&&&&

_Chicago, IL_

Day 29. I was trying not to count the days, but for some reason I couldn't seem to stop. The first week had been much easier, surprisingly. The frenzy of finding an apartment, choosing and packing the things I wanted to bring, discarding the things I didn't, unpacking and setting up in my new place, settling into my new office at the university—all of those activities kept me too busy to think about him much and left me exhausted at the end of each day. But as the days went by I had more and more time on my hands and that's when the memories pushed their way in.

I thought it would be easier—new city, new job, new surroundings. It should have been. But I didn't anticipate how strongly scents and sounds could evoke memories. It amazed me how much I missed him, with a deep, agonizing, unrelenting ache that permeated my entire being. I've never been a weepy woman, but the tears were always there, right under the surface, bursting out at the slightest provocation. I managed to bottle them when I was around other people, but that just made the times when I was alone that much harder. I cried until I was sure I couldn't cry any more. Unfortunately, it seemed there was a limitless supply of tears.

I enjoyed teaching a lot more than I thought I would. There were some really brilliant students in my classes and they really responded to the passion I have for my work. I could tell by the intent concentration on their faces and the well thought out questions they asked that they were excited about anthropology. That part of my life was rewarding and I looked forward to going to work every day. It was the hours in between that I couldn't deal with.

I pulled my dinner out of the microwave and set it on the table. I ate because I had to—my appetite just wasn't there, but I'd already dropped five pounds I couldn't afford and I knew if I didn't eat I was going to be ill. Sitting down, I forced myself to take a bite of the rice, trying to muster some enthusiasm even though the rice tasted like sawdust. I cut a piece of the chicken and put it in my mouth, fighting the urge to spit it out.

'_I wonder what Booth is doing?'_ I stopped chewing as the thought popped into my head. Tears welled in my eyes and I put my fork down. No matter how many times I scolded myself about thinking of him, I couldn't seem to control my subconscious.

The phone ringing was a welcome distraction, but I still checked the caller ID before picking up. _Montenegro, Angela_, it said. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I answered.

"Hi, sweetie!" Angela said with a smile in her voice. Happiness bubbled up and threatened to spill over. She could always brighten my day, no matter what.

"Hi, Ange," I replied, smiling in spite of myself. "How are you?"

"Great! Hodgie says hi."

"Tell him hi back. What's up?"

"Hey, can't I call my best friend just to see how she's doing?" The hurt tone in her voice was feigned, I think. But I knew there had to be an ulterior motive to the call.

"I suppose. How are things?" I asked, to forestall the third degree I sensed was coming.

"Okay, I guess. Everybody misses you." There was a pause and I wished I could see her face so I might have a clue what she was thinking.

"Yeah, me too. How is everybody?" I asked. We both knew what I really meant was 'How is Booth?', but I would never ask that directly, no matter how badly I wanted to know. Angela wasn't in a charitable mood, because she made me wait through a long rundown of bits of news about everybody _but_ Booth. When she was done, there was a long pause. When it became evident I wasn't going to ask, she relented.

"Booth misses you too," she finally said. His name caught at my heart and stopped my breath and it took me a minute to recover.

"Really? Did he say that?" I managed to say around the lump in my throat.

There was a heavy sigh and Brennan could almost hear the eye roll. "He didn't have to, Bren. The guy is obviously pining. How much longer are you gonna torture the guy?"

"I don't mean to torture him," I said, tears springing to my eyes at the thought of causing him any pain. "I just…needed to do this, Ange. I thought you understood."

"Not even close to understanding, sweetie. Sorry. When Booth told you that you were running away, he nailed it. So I think you just need to get this out of your system, get over it, then get your ass back here where you belong."

"Why is it so hard for you to understand? This was a huge opportunity for me—"

"Oh, puleeze!" she interrupted. "You are so running away! All those other guys you've ever dated never came close to touching your heart. Not even Sully. Booth is the first one to get past your defenses and it scared you to death, so you bolted. Playing it safe may seem like the way to go, but its damn lonely, sweetie. When you finally realize that, you need to get back here, pronto. But don't wait too long, okay?"

I sighed and closed my eyes. It was tough having a friend that saw past all my bluffs…and told me so bluntly. "Well, I have to go. Take care, Angela." Without waiting for her reply, I disconnected. Sitting back down at the table, I picked up my fork and started picking at my ice cold dinner. My thoughts turned to Booth again, wondering what he was doing, if it was true he was 'pining' as Angela said. Putting down the fork again and pushing the plate away, I put my face in my hands. Somehow I needed to get him off my mind before I went crazy.

**A/N: This is the first time I've written first person—I generally avoid it like the plague, but I really felt this chapter called for it. I know, I know, still with the angst, but don't worry, I promise Chapter 3 will make it all worth it. I will try to have it posted by Monday night. Thank you so much for reading, now please click the little blue button and tell me what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Against All Odds**

**Part 3**

_Late May, Washington D.C._

Booth was watching an old movie, drowsing a bit. It was late on Friday of a rough week and he was considering giving it up and going to bed. It was a stupid movie anyway. But even though he was feeling sleepy now, he knew if he went to bed, he'd lie awake for another hour or two. He just wasn't in the mood to deal with that frustration yet.

A soft knock on the door jerked him upright and wide awake. 'Who in the world would come by at this hour?' he wondered as he rolled to his feet. He looked through the peephole and his heart jumped to his throat. His hand stopped on the doorknob and he actually considered not opening the door, but his curiosity got the better of him. He had to hear her reason for coming. Taking a deep breath, he jerked the door open before he could change his mind.

Her hand was raised to knock again, but she dropped it to her side at the sight of him standing there in the doorway. 'Damn, he looks good', she thought, her jaw slack at the torrent of emotions zinging through her. She'd rehearsed this meeting over and over, but she hadn't anticipated how the sight of him would hit her like a sucker punch to the solar plexus, leaving her unable to function at all.

He didn't seem to be having that problem. He raised his eyebrows at her and his eyes were cold and hard. She'd seen him give murderers a warmer reception. She sighed inwardly, acknowledging that she deserved it. The coward in her was urging her to flee, but she had know if he had kept his promise. It had been a long nine months, and she needed to know if coming back was an option.

"Hi," she said hoarsely, standing there poised as though ready to bolt.

"Hi," he replied in a flat tone. She winced inwardly. She had done that to him…made him close himself off so that his response lacked any warmth.

"C-can I come in?" she asked quietly. She didn't know what she was going to do if he said no. They needed to talk—whether he accepted her back or not, one way or the other, there needed to be a resolution.

He gave a jerky nod and stepped back, and relief rooted her to the spot for a moment. He gave her an impatient look that spurred her forward, all the way to the middle of the living room. He motioned her to sit on the couch, while he sat on the arm of the chair. He didn't offer her any refreshment, nor did he make any attempt to break the silence. Clearly he was going to make her make the first move. Actually, the second, since the first had been getting up the nerve to come to him.

Brennan cleared her throat. "I'm thinking about coming back," she began, holding his gaze by sheer force of will. She'd always prided herself on her courage, but right now she felt like the worst coward ever to walk the earth as her stomach trembled, making her feel slightly nauseous.

Booth folded his arms. His gaze grew chillier. "Really? 'Thinking about'? Sounds pretty indecisive to me."

Brennan twisted her hands together and took a fortifying breath. "Well, it depends on you. If you'll take me back—" she said, breaking off at the unyielding look on his face. "You promised to wait," she reminded him, trying not to sound desperate. She felt panic rise as he continued to regard her coldly. What if she'd waited too long?

"You told me not to," he countered stubbornly.

She swallowed hard. "I know I did. I-I was wrong." She glanced down at her hands and noticed the knuckles were white, she was clasping them so hard. She made a conscious effort to relax them. Looking back up at Booth, she decided the best thing to do was to be honest.

"I love you," she began. His lips firmed and a muscle jumped in his cheek. Her heart broke a little at what she had done to him. "It scared me to death, being that connected to someone. I've never allowed it to happen before. I've always prided myself on my independence. So I ran away," she admitted. She would have laughed at the 'I told you so' look on his face if the situation weren't so serious. "What I learned by running away was that being independent is damned lonely. I'm tired of being lonely."

"Get a cat," he said heartlessly. She sighed. She should have known he wouldn't make this easy. She had hurt him deeply when she'd left.

"That would be a poor substitute," she said with a wry twist to her lips. "I need you…to complete me. All these long months away from you, I've felt empty. All the excitement was gone from my life. Sometimes it was all I could do to force myself to get out of bed in the morning."

"What took you so long?" he asked, his demeanor softening ever so slightly. She felt hope rise but quickly put a damper on it. She wasn't in the clear yet.

"It took some time for me to realize how deep the need went," she said. "For awhile I resented you for making me need you. But it was there anyway and I finally decided being with you was all I wanted. Then I had to finish out the semester. I owed that to my students."

He sighed and unfolded his arms. "And now? Have you moved back for good?"

"I—wasn't sure you'd take me back, so I—came here to find out before doing anything."

"How do I know you're not going to do this again?" he asked with a break in his voice. The pain on his face caught at her heart.

"I promise you, I'm done running. I know I still have issues, but I think we can work through them together, if you're willing. And I've realized what I think I knew subconsciously all along, even before we became involved. No matter how scared I get, I know I can trust you. With my life, with my heart, with all of me. I can to prove to you, every day, that you can trust me too, if you'll let me."

He was studying her closely, weighing her sincerity and the strength of her resolve. She sensed he was doing that 'gut feeling' thing and she tried to wait patiently, when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms. But it was his move. It had to be his choice.

He stood suddenly and reached down for her, pulling her into his arms. Burying her face into his shirt, she breathed deep, taking in the clean scent of him, trying to absorb the pure bliss of being in his arms again. As his arms tightened around her she started to cry, tears of relief and joy, tears for the pain she had inflicted on him with her own insecurities. Stroking her back, he rocked her a little.

"Sshhh, it's okay," he murmured huskily, holding her close. "It's alright, I'm right here. I still love you. I never stopped. I couldn't."

Pulling back to look up at him, she was incredibly touched to find tears in his eyes. He gave her a crooked watery smile which faded when his gaze dropped to her lips. And then, finally, with a groan that told her just how much he had missed her, he kissed her softly, tenderly, so sweetly that her toes curled. Winding her arms up around his neck, she moaned and strained to get closer. Nobody else had ever made her feel this way, she marveled. Desire was humming along her veins, but with Booth her heart was completely involved and it brought a whole new dimension to it.

Breaking the kiss, his lips trailed along her jaw to her ear and he kissed the sensitive spot below her earlobe, the soughing of his breath in her ear causing goose bumps to chase down her arms. Her hands stroked feverishly over his shoulders and down his pecs, over his abs and around to his back, as though she was anxious to learn his body all over again. When she stroked down to his ass and squeezed he lifted his head with a husky chuckle.

"Whoa, slow down there," he said, taking a shaky breath. She kissed his jaw and down his neck, moaning a little in protest when he grasped her arms to hold her away from him a bit. He looked into her beautiful eyes and nearly gave in to his raging hormones right then, but he something told him that would be a mistake. "Let's take this one step at a time, okay?" he asked gently.

She frowned up at him, trying to understand. "Don't you want--?" she whispered in disbelief.

His lips quirked. God, he loved her. "You know I do," he said, pressing his hips into hers so she could feel how much he wanted her. "But an hour ago I thought I'd never see you again. I think my mind needs to catch up with my body."

She smirked. "I'm not interested in your mind right now, Seeley," she said slyly. Once they'd gotten involved, he'd never had much self control around her, at least not when they were alone. He set her away from him, proving that her leaving had changed something.

He shook his head at her. "I need some time, Temperance." She blinked up at him, unable to believe he was turning her away. He reached out and stroked her cheek tenderly. "You really hurt me when you left. I've missed you so much, every day…there were times I didn't know how to get through the next hour, much less a whole day. It's gonna take me some time to get over that pain."

She sighed, her eyes drifting shut as the pleasure of his touch permeated her senses. He leaned down and kissed her cheek and her eyes fluttered open to meet his. The warmth and caring in his eyes reassured her. There'd be time later. When he had time to learn to trust that she was truly back, for good and for always. She resolved right then never to give him cause to regret the decision to take her back.


End file.
